


Hammocks (Breaking Strain)

by Trojie



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-29
Updated: 2010-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eustace's POV of some inappropriate incidents on-board the <i>Dawn Treader</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hammocks (Breaking Strain)

**Author's Note:**

> People that I am not include C.S. Lewis.
> 
> Written in response to Ineptshieldmaid's 'hammock' prompt. Eustace's POV. Beta-read by Bridget.

_They're at it again,_ Eustace thinks disgustedly to himself one night in the bowels of the _Dawn Treader_. Lolling against the bulkheads, pressed together all - _yuck_.

They think he doesn't hear them. But he hears, right enough. And pretends to be asleep. He's thinking of them, really. Being considerate. Only think how embarrassed they'd be if they thought he'd been listening. Not that he's _been_ listening, it's just they're so unsubtle, he can't help it. It's not as if he can leave, what with being so feverish he can barely get out of his bunk to use the necessary. And Lucy's not been much help, whatever they say about that beastly cordial of hers. Apparently it's nearly fifteen hundred years old. That can't be sanitary.

'Mmmph, no, Caspian, stop it - _Oh_.'

Just 'Oh.' The whispered 'mm, no, stop's have been going on for a good half hour, on the very edge of Eustace's hearing, but that 'oh' ... It sounds final. Then there are soft sounds of clothes being put back, and the tiny noises of rope stretching as they get into their hammocks, that wouldn't even be audible over the slap of waves on the hull if Eustace weren't so cursed awake. His senses have been made extra keen by fever, obviously.

They obviously think they've been so incredibly subtle. It's rather sad, really. Eustace rolls over, content that they've stopped for the night.

Two nights later, they're at it yet again. This time, they've been having a pretty rowdy time of it on deck, and they've been drinking wine. Caspian offered Eustace some, as if he didn't know that he's teetotal - insulting as ever - but he'd refused, and gone to bed in a dignified manner, to at least show them an example of civilised behaviour. Edmund had come to bed a bit later, stumbling disgustingly and so forth, and flopped into his hammock. When Caspian comes down even later than that, he's so loud he might wake the whole ship, the inconsiderate prig. To top it off, he gets into Edmund's hammock, or tries to. Eustace can hear Edmund's sleepy complaints quite clearly; he's using a normal tone of voice anyone might use to, for instance, hail a cab (honestly, does no-one on this ship _ever_ consider others?), but that cuts off sharply.

And then, yes, there are more 'mm's ... long, drawn out moans, actually, not as quiet as usual, presumably because they're drunk. Eustace soon finds himself doing something perfectly healthy and natural under his bedclothes ...

... and Edmund (he thinks it's Edmund but honestly, it could be Caspian, it could be both of them), muttering 'we should' and 'no' and 'he'll _hear_' ... they're talking about _him_ while they - Eustace actually bites off a swearword and squeezes a little firmer at that -

'He won't, he's never heard before - keep quiet or he _will_ hear, idiot, or do you want him to?' and the teasing heat in that line means that healthy natural inclinations are fulfilled in Eustace's bunk. He eases his eyes open, and in the gloom he sees that Caspian's still got one leg on the timbers and the other only half up; the hammock is tilted dangerously, held in place by a panting silhouette. Their breathing is speeding up, too.

He knows what will come next; Eustace is just waiting for that final 'oh', so that he can try to get some sleep (_not_ because of any kind of hormonal nonsense), but instead there's a very sharp creak and then, simultaneously, the unmistakeable sound of rope snapping and two very high-pitched yelps.

They've broken the hammock.


End file.
